


the best of all possible outcomes

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Intimacy, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Back on the first Normandy, they shared everything. Now, they shared everything. There was a whole swath of time where they shared nothing, but that time was still too fraught, too painful yet to fully broach. Tender, Kaidan didn’t feel comfortable tearing open that wound for what amounted to an afternoon of relaxation. He plucked up a few blades of grass and rolled them into a ball between his fingertips. “What do you want to talk about instead?”





	the best of all possible outcomes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



They didn’t often get moments like this, he and Shepard, time to just sit around and do nothing except stare up at the wide, blue sky and categorize its particular shade as Like Earth or Not Like Earth. Sometimes, the blues were too blue or too purple or too greenish, but this one was almost right. “Could be home,” Kaidan said, breaking a silence that had lingered, comfortable, for a good twenty minutes or so as they’d laid on a patch of grass that was cool and yellowish, its green softened by the pale sprays of wild wheat—or an alien approximation of it—that dotted this particular valley. “If you tilted your head and squinted a little.”

“Mmm,” Shepard answered, stretching as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Not enough air traffic.” Eyes glinting, he smiled at Kaidan, almost as soft as the grass. “There’s nowhere on Earth you can escape that hum.”

That piqued Kaidan’s curiosity. Shepard didn’t often talk about Earth, not really, except when he was arguing with someone about how vital it was they _do something now_ to save it from the Reapers. “You miss it?”

Shepard lifted his head and closed his eyes against the sunlight that had begun to settle over them like a blanket. Kaiden wasn’t given to poetry at the best of times, but he could admire the strength in Shepard’s profile, the sturdiness of it, and if he knew how to put his admiration of it into words that were elegant rather than clumsy, he would have. “Yeah,” Shepard said, a man of even simpler speech than Kaidan except when it counted, except when everything was on the line and a speech was the only thing that could rally the troops. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s different on the Citadel and in the colonies. I do miss it.” His jaw twitched. “I hope there’ll be something left of it to miss when we get back there.”

“Anderson’s the best we’ve got,” Kaidan answered, guilt lapping, acidic, at the walls of his stomach. The last time he’d seen Anderson was just before Mars, was just before he and Vega’d questioned Shepard to hell and back for what he was doing, what Anderson had _ordered_ him to do. “He’ll hold it down until we’ve got what we need.”

Shepard’s hand scrubbed at his chin and over his mouth, his knuckles pressing at his lips as though to keep the deluge of his thoughts at bay. “I know,” he finally said, dry. “Do we really need to talk about this now?”

Kaidan sighed, wanting to push a bit more now that he’d gotten a metaphorical foot in the metaphorical door, but Shepard was right and, more than that, didn’t deserve to be further pried at. Huffing, reluctantly amused, he shook his head. “Liara hands us a few hours of downtime on a platter and here we are wasting it on Reapers.”

“You can take the soldier out of the shop talk…”

“But you can’t take the shop talk out of the soldier? That almost makes sense, Shepard.”

That smile from earlier turned into a full-blown grin. Just that was enough to make Kaidan’s stomach twist like he was a teen with a crush. Even if it was a little embarrassing at his age, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Shepard spoke, unaware of the effect he was having, “Maybe not. But we can try, right?”

“Yeah.” Kaidan answered with a grin of his own. And after a beat: “So how about that Council, huh?”

Groaning, Shepard leaned over and shoved at Kaidan’s shoulder. His hand lingered though, pulling Kaidan toward him so he could wrap his arm around Kaidan’s neck. Despite the heat of the day and the prickling of sweat around his hairline, Kaidan found he didn’t mind the contact in the slightest. “Let’s not talk about that either. What do you say, Kaidan?”

“Sure.” Kaidan nodded, happy enough to comply except for how little else they had to talk about. Back on the first Normandy, they shared everything. Now, they shared everything. There was a whole swath of time where they shared nothing, but that time was still too fraught, too painful yet to fully broach. Tender, Kaidan didn’t feel comfortable tearing open that wound for what amounted to an afternoon of relaxation. He plucked up a few blades of grass and rolled them into a ball between his fingertips. “What do you want to talk about instead?”

Shepard scraped his hand across the back of his head, his fingernails scratching at his scalp. Kaiden might have wanted to be the one doing that, though he didn’t say as much. “I don’t know,” Shepard admitted. “I could tell you how happy I am that Liara found a good reason to dump us here for a few hours. We don’t get to spend enough time together just you and me.”

Though Kaidan often found himself feeling awkward and stilted around Shepard, he wasn’t given to blushing. And thank goodness for that because otherwise he might’ve done so for the simple honesty of Shepard’s statement. It was the truth spoken as plainly as it could be, nothing at all holding him or his words back. It was pure, Shepard boldness. And Kaidan, who equivocated on everything, thought too hard and too long about what he would and wouldn’t say, couldn’t ever do the same, not without some degree of self-deprecation to temper it.

“You mean outside of all that time we spend in your quarters and the mess and in _my_ quarters and the lounge and—”

“Yeah.” Shepard laughed, just a little. For being part of a crew that never truly rested from its mission, they’d managed to carve out a reasonable semblance of a life together. More than Kaidan had ever shared with someone else before. The military wasn’t always the best place for love to flourish, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the two of them. “Besides all that.”

“Well, Commander,” Kaiden replied, teasing, “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Glad you see things my way, _Major_.” The way Shepard called him by his title, low and warm and with a hint of pride, felt intimate, far more so than it had any right to feel even given the circumstances. He enjoyed hearing that tone, possibly more than Shepard liked speaking in it. He couldn’t really say for sure though; it was one of those things he’d never thought to ask about.

Kaidan elbowed him in the side, because he could and because he wanted the hard, muscled line of Shepard’s torso against his own and then because it would be easy to push him back into the grass and lean over him and look down at his face, Kaidan’s shadow blocking the sun, its heat beaming across his neck and back. “When this is done, we’ll go home. You’ll hear so much of that hum you miss, you’ll start wondering if the Council really is as annoying as you remembered and think back fondly about arguing with Valern and Tavos.”

Shepard’s mouth twitched in amusement. “That so?”

“At least until they remember you’re a Spectre and put you back to work.”

“Oh, yeah. I am, aren’t I?” He tipped his chin up. “And where will you be?”

“Right there with you,” Kaidan answered. “Spectres team up all the time. We work good together. Makes sense to me.”

It was a nice dream. And it was about as likely to come true as the Reapers bearing down on them and waving a white flag of surrender in the next ten minutes. More likely, they’ll be bogged down in months and months of cleanup. The media will pick and prod and demand easy, comforting answers. Narratives will be assigned and Shepard and his crew will be the biggest targets, ripe for twisting into the most convenient mold available. They’ll be sainted and tarred in turn and the council will bow to the loudest wind they hear on the horizon. They’ll be heroes to some, demons to others, and nothing at all to yet more.

But things will never go back to normal. Kaidan could accept that.

Assuming, of course, any of them survive this damned war, which Kaidan _had_ to accept, no ‘coulds’ about it. He couldn’t keep doing his job if he didn’t believe they’d make it through.

So every day, every moment, he made that choice. Again and again and again. They’d survive to see Earth again. They’d survive long enough to wonder what they’d do next. They’d survive to see another perfect afternoon where they could talk about the future they wanted to see.

Shepard’s hands slid up his sides, heat blazing from his palm. When he bored of that, he snaked one hand over his chest and up to press Kaidan’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Looking forward to ordering me around?”

Kaidan tilted his head and nipped at Shepard’s fingertip. “Oh, always. That was my master plan all along: get promoted, get Spectre status, use both to boss you around in the field. All that’s left is the payoff.”

“Can’t wait,” Shepard said, pulling Kaidan down, chest to chest, so he could bite at Kaidan’s lips and coax his mouth open. He ran his tongue over Kaidan’s teeth, a tease before retreating and offering something sweeter. His stubble rasped against Kaidan’s, especially sharp juxtaposed against the softness with which Shepard kissed him. This had always been a surprise, the way Shepard approached touch. He was thorough and he was gentle, more of both than Kaidan had ever experienced before, enough so that it made Kaidan ache with longing—for more, for _everything_ , for things he couldn’t even name. Even though Shepard already gave him that and more. Without reservation.

There was still so much to do before they could take on the Reapers and find out what exactly came next, whether Kaidan’s prognostications would prove prescient or foolish, but for right now, Kaidan knew how to take advantage of ideal situations.

This moment could be perfect, faultless, a diamond cut for clarity and brilliance, an heirloom to be kept and protected.

He could pretend, would gladly pretend until he couldn’t, that they had all the time in the galaxy before reality came crashing down around them.


End file.
